Harry Potter and The Chronicles Of Chaos Book 1: Origins
by Akuma's knight
Summary: AU: Harry Potter is known for many things, chief amongst them is the chaotic life he has led. But what if I told you that was nothing, what if I told you that paled in comparison to the truth. What happens you take a cunning, intelligent, powerful Harry and give him all the resources in the world? Well, power, chaos and one hell of a tale!


A/N: Welcome back! My Lord, my lady, welcome to the world where I will have so much freedom, that it might be a little insane, this is going to be a story that my co-author's letting me do; I will let him introduce himself, Before he does though, I should like to notify you that I will be updating Harry Snart very soon.

AN: Hello everyone, my name is ACI100, I am the author of Harry Potter and The Serpent Chronicles Book 1 The Prince of Slytherin as well as a few other stories. If you'd like to check them out, I welcome you to do so.

This wonderful story you are about to read is very loosely based around some ideas from my story. Akuma has my full permission to do this. As a matter of fact, I will very much enjoy helping him out along the way.

When I say loosely based, I mean VERY LOOSELY based. Taking a few of the ideas and one of the characters later on. As much as this story will be excellent I just want to make very clear this is not part of the cannon for my story, nor is mine part of the cannon for his. They are two completely different stories, just with a few borrowed ideas and characters.

I hope you all enjoy the journey as much as we will enjoy writing it! Back to you Akuma!

I'm not going to make a carbon copy of the story, but if you have any positive criticism I appreciate all feedback, however, rude comments shall never be given a response!

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I'm sure everyone has heard the story of Harry Potter, but have you ever heard of the Phantom? Halloween night, the year 1981, that was the day a legend was born, no, it was created. People around the world were afraid, they feared they would die, but there was a monster waiting to take something or someone. This monster loved to play games, and this time it would have all the fun it could ever want; let the games begin!

Albus Dumbledore was a very highly respected man, he had defeated the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, he was head of the International Confederation Of Wizards, along with several other titles, right now he wasn't thinking as an important person in politics, he was thinking as a person with a destiny; a destiny to be the Leader of the Light and teacher of the Boy Who Lived, he just hoped that the love for family would be enough to protect him from Death Eaters. For all of his brilliance, Albus Dumbledore would never see the irony in that thought. For it was hatred that saved him, hatred of his "family", hatred for his situation, and though he did not know the identity, hatred for the old codger that put him there.

Despite that reality, Albus Dumbledore was firm eat on his plan of action. He would leave the boy with his only living relatives. He would be raised away from the limelight and would emerge as the perfect weapon, the perfect soldier for the light. The glaring beacon of hope that would burn a path straight through the impending darkness.

So, it was, with that plan in mind that Albus Dumbledore oversaw the extraction, and relocation of Harry Potter on Halloween night. Minerva, bless her ignorant soul, had not agreed with the plan of action. Albus respected Minerva, but he knew that she was wrong, there was nothing to make him change his mind, it was set, and it would work he was sure of it.

"Good luck Harry Potter." Were his last words before he turned on the spot and was gone in a swish of a cloak.

…..

A lot had happened in the years succeeding the bold decision of the supposed greatest wizard since Merlin. The world was changing in so many ways. Despite all of the events going on in the wizarding world, no event was more significant to the world's future than the happening inside a seemingly ordinary muggle home located at number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging Surrey.

Needless to say, the upbringing of Harry Potter would be essential to the future of the world, both wizarding and muggle. Unfortunately, despite his seemingly infinite intelligence and wisdom, his flawless reputation, and overwhelming confidence. Albus Dumbledore's plan was not going as he had hoped thus far.

Harry Potter had not had a fun life, in fact, his life had been the exact opposite of fun. From the moment he was placed on the front doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive he had been doomed. Sentenced to years of hell, and it began almost immediately.

The first sound young Harry Potter had ever heard out of his "family" was a terrible, ear piercing scream from his aunt Petunia, who had opened the front door the morning of November 1st, 1980 looking for the morning post.

Little did Petunia Dursley know; she would find far more than she bargained for. She had not, for example, been planning to find her nephew, whom she had never so much as seen before that day, lying there, in a crib on her front doorstep, with nothing more than a letter from a man she had hated for years as her explanation to the sequence of events that had lead to this moment.

In many ways, the name Albus Dumbledore had only doomed Harry more, as if his mere existence in the same house as these people had not done a good enough job of that already.

For the first few months, there was nothing extreme. Sure, Dudley was pampered beyond his wildest dreams, while Harry was given at best, the bare minimum he needed. But really, he was too young to even truly take notice of that as it was. Things began to change quickly though.

Harry was a rather advanced child. He spoke long before Dudley. As a matter of fact, he was speaking full sentences while Dudley was still trying to sound out his own name.

Harry, though very young, quite proud of himself. As it was, he could not understand why his aunt and uncle were not. In fact, his uncle just yelled at him, and he was quickly forced back into his cupboard and went without food for the first time.

It only continued in the same manner. When Harry started walking it had not been pretty. He was walking around the living room (granted, quite unsteadily) while Dudley was busy trying to copy him, but he kept falling over, despite using the coffee table for leverage.

Harry had let out a small giggle at his cousin's expense, that had been a mistake. He hadn't seen anywhere except for his cupboard for a week. He hadn't made it easier on himself either.

When he had finally been allowed escape from his would be prison Harry had immediately asked a question.

He had asked his aunt something along the effects of why Dudley was praised for achievements that were easy for him. And why he was punished for things Dudley did all the time. The response he had received puzzled his young brain, but he knew it was bad for him. Well, I mean, when a response starts with an open palm slap to the face that knocked him onto his rear end, that was a fairly obvious clue.

"How dare you, you little freak! How dare you!" She had grabbed him by his collar and lifted him into the air so they were staring each other in the eyes. "Don't you EVER compare yourself to my Dudley EVER again you little FREAK! Do you understand me?" She had then given him a hard shake for good measure.

Harry had quickly nodded vigorously, tears welling up in his eyes. He had puzzled on this response for a long time.

It had never stopped though. He had, for the longest time thought his name was freak. Only when he finally attended his first day of school at the age of five had he found out his name was actually Harry, Harry Potter.

Luckily for him, he had not questioned it. He had no reason to be surprised that his caretakers had lied to him. Caretakers, not family.

Harry was never allowed to do anything. He was forced to watch his cousin have everything, and do anything he wanted, while he, the more talented one, sat there and was forced to watch.

He had become sick of it. He could not stand it, it was like torture to him. And worse still, uncle Vernon would point it out to Harry, as he watched Dudley play, just making it so much worse. So, Harry had stopped caring, he had become detached from those people. He had become detached from people in general. The conclusion his young, mind had come to was that all people were mean. It was a natural thing to think when the only people he truly remembered, his aunt Petunia his uncle Vernon, his aunt Marge, Dudley, and his friends, had all been mean to him.

So, instead of his prison, his cupboard had become his sanctuary. He took pleasure in only three things. Drawing, reading, and beating Dudley. He had come to the conclusion he would be punished no matter what he did, so Harry had made it his mission to beat Dudley, for sure, someone that mean did not deserve to win, he never deserved to win.

But reading, Harry had read many books about family and love, he couldn't understand love or what it meant, but family. The Dursleys were not his family. A family was supposed to be nice to each other, they were supposed to help each other. The Dursleys had never done either in regards to him, so he called them his caretakers, not his family.

So, yes, he had no reason to doubt the fact they had lied to him.

For a while, his life had improved in school. He was very smart, as the teachers had told him. Harry was the top of his class in everything, except gym, he just didn't have the same strength as the others, after all, malnutrition will do that to you.

This meant Harry got to do one of his three favorite things even more often, beating Dudley. That didn't last very long though. Harry has moved ahead a year in school, this meant he can no longer beat Dudley. For a while, this made him quite sad, but on the upside, he found something else he enjoyed learning, working, studying, and being in a class with older kids allowed Harry to learn far more, so he decided, in the end, he didn't mind after all.

Harry's first year of school was nice, his home life still sucked, as the Dursleys seemed to always make comments about freaks, family, and new toys for Dudley, but he was getting better still at just ignoring them.

His second year of school wasn't as fun though. He still learned lots which was good, but Dudley had a lot of friends now, he called them his "gang." Their favorite game unfortunately for Harry was, well, Harry hunting. This made Harry's school life hard. Harry had thought he had some hope when the gang was caught by teachers multiple times. That was, after all another advantage of being smart, Harry had thought to himself with a smile, teachers like you. Unfortunately, his happy mood had not lasted long.

Dudley was punished at school. Harry was punished at home for getting Dudley punished at school. So, for the rest of the year, Harry got beat up at school and then punished, and sometimes beat up at home because Dudley had beat him up at school. It was not an easy life.

Harry could have made friends to help him, they were a year older than Dudley so they probably could have protected him, but he chose not to, after all, people were mean to him, except teachers, he had come to the conclusion that teachers were the exception to that rule, though he was starting to doubt it a bit.

Another reason he didn't take this route was he figured if he got older kids to beat up Dudley, his punishments would only get worked.

So, that left Harry six years old, two years of his schooling done, and to his great disappointment, back on Privet Drive for the whole summer, with no school, and only his books and his art to pass the time.

He was at peace, for the moment, until he heard his uncle call him, "Boy! Bring my guests and I some beer!"

"Yes uncle," Harry replied with a soft tone, head bowed low. As he he walked to the fridge, he unknowingly gained the attention of his uncle's three guests.

There were two men, they had pale skin and dark eyes and were dressed in the fanciest clothes Harry had ever seen. They were fancy dark suits that made them look like the secret agents from Dudley's television shows.

Harry could not help but absentmindedly notice that nothing about their face stood out, it was as if they were made to blend in, the effect was only intensified when one took into consideration how similar the two looked.

The third was a woman. She lounged in the chair she was sitting in and Harry was immediately given the impression of importance, power, and status. Her posture was relaxed yet somehow authoritative.

It was hard to tell from a seated position, but Harry thought she must be quite tall based on the length of her legs. She had cocoa coloured skin, dark brown hair that almost seemed black to Harry, and the oddest eyes. Red eyes. Not pure red or glowing like those of a super villain. No, her eyes were normal but red, a colour Harry had not known even existed in terms of eye colour.

The female spoke in a sweet tone, one that was motherly, "Dursley, who is that boy?"

Vernon, ever the boastful one decided to the story of how his wife had found him on the porch, with a note explaining that his sister in law and her husband died drunk in a car crash. Apparently, he had slept with her once and she ended up pregnant, according to his wife; her sister was a slut. As Vernon kept speaking, the trio noticed the young boy shaking as he left the refreshments on the table.

Harry quickly made his exit, shaking with rage as he tried to hide his expression as well as he could, as well as trying to swallow the bitter rage and hatred he felt towards the man who even at such a young age he knew to be a sorry excuse of an uncle.

Though Harry did not know it as his back was to them as he made his exit, the woman's odd red eyes followed his exit from the room, a calculating look on her elegant features that was noticed only by her associates. Vernon was far too busy spouting his story to notice such an intricate detail.

'Or perhaps he would not have noticed as is.' She thought, her lips twitching ever so slightly upwards in amusement.

The lady asked the location of the loo, and after her trip, she saw Dursley's nephew crawl into the cupboard! She tried her best to be quiet but her heels were not helping in her mission.

She sighed In frustration before she removed her heels and snuck into the cupboard, causing the boy to jump. She put her right index finger up to her lips, hoping very much that he would take the queue and stay silent. "Hello little one, I'm Selina, who are you?"

"I-I-I'm Harry, miss. You shouldn't be here, uncle doesn't like me talking to his guests."

His voice sounded much like earlier, soft and quiet but there was a hint of something else in his voice as well, something she knew all too well: fear, though she admitted to herself with great curiosity that he hid it rather well.

"Oh, forget that mean whale. He won't do anything while I'm here. Tell me something little one, would you like to come and watch me play with your uncle?"

The boy seemed quite taken aback with her offer and she could see the doubt in his shockingly green eyes at her proclamation about his safety, she could only hope the confidence she had conveyed in her tone was enough to convince him that she was being honest.

A gentle nod was his response as he surveyed her in a manner far too calculating for one of his age.

She decided to pick him up and carry him to her chair. When she reached out to take him into her arms however she mentally scolded herself as the boy flinched back rather terribly and a look of poorly disguised panic crossed his otherwise innocent features.

She frowned before deciding she would not be able to convince him in that moment and just leaning forward and overpowering him into her arms.

For a moment he went stiff, but when he seemed to realize she meant him no harm, (which judging by the look on his face was a foreign concept to the boy) he did not struggle nor seem discomforted with the contact. He was still too rigid for her liking, but he had settled down quite a bit.

When she walked into the sitting room she watched them all closely, Vernon in particular. She felt Harry tense in her arms as they neared his uncle.

One of her associates shot her a raised eyebrow but beyond that they did not respond.

Dursley on the other hand went an interesting shade of purple as his small, beady eyes focused in on the small child cradled almost lovingly in her arms. He opened his mouth to say something apparently thought better of it as he closed it once more.

She sat down in the chair nearest Dursley and placed the little boy gently onto her lap. It was clear he was not at all accustomed to the position, and he kept shooting nervous glances at his uncle.

When she wasn't taking her turn at the poker table she was speaking Italian to her partners or rocking Harry gently in her lap which seemed to ease his nerves if only a little.

"What are you doing with him?" Vernon whispered to her, or at least what he considered to be a whisper. The aggressive tone of his voice bothered her a bit but she chose to ignore it, at least for now. In fact, she decided to ignore him completely, only gently running a hand through the boy's untidy black hair as he had tensed up and became stiff as a board when his uncle had spoken.

It was a few minutes later when she addressed Dursley once more.

"Vernon, this young man is so handsome, I might just keep him."

There was a clear joking tone to her voice but Dursley did not miss the undertones. He was a businessman after all, he knew very well how to detect hidden messages. Another thing Vernon was good at detecting was confidence and she was stuffed full of it. She spoke as if it was a statement, a mere inevitability, as if nothing he could do would stop him.

Vernon gave a nervous laugh, passing it off as a joke as one of her associates in that moment managed to win the game.

"Well, it is rather late," she said to both Dursley and her colleagues. "I think it is time we get going gentlemen. Would you like me to put your nephew to bed Vernon? Where does he sleep?"

Vernon went pale for a minute and seemed to very badly want to decline, though he did not dare do so under her stare, not did he dare tell the truth.

"There is a spare bedroom upstairs, you may need to grab the air mattress out of the close though? Little tyke somehow broke his old bed you see."

His lie was as unconvincing as his false sense of confidence but she smiled, and stood up.

"Very well." She gestured to one of her associates. "Fetch the mattress from the closet will you?"

The man did not hesitate to obey as the woman began to gently carry up the stairs, rocking him gently as she went.

When they came to the bedroom she almost snorted. It was very clearly the storage room for all of his son's play things, both past and present by the state of some of them.

A second later her associate entered the room and laid out the mattress quickly before leaving.

She bent gently down and placed the boy on the mattress before tucking him in with the blankets she had also been given. She wondered how long it had been since the small boy had slept with blankets.

"Goodnight little one..." she whispered, gently brushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

He didn't have to say for what, she knew what he meant.

She just smiled softly at him as she quietly made her entrance.

'Oh you will have plenty more to thank me for very soon little one.' Was her last determined thought before fainting a polite goodbye and making her exit.

Author's Endnote

Hey guys, ACI100 again.

We both very much hope you enjoyed the story, as it was a blast to cowrie this and I can't wait to do more! Big thanks to Akuma for allowing me to help co write this story and trust me, whatever prediction you may have about this story, they're wrong.

My Lord, my lady please come again


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